


Double-Quick Terror Hiding Under An Anchor Line

by crocs



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Cloak & Dagger (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Mid-Credits Scene (Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018)), Post-Movie: Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018), Time Vortexes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 04:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15766305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocs/pseuds/crocs
Summary: Mild spoilers forAnt-Man and the Wasp.In the blink of an eye, a man appeared out of nowhere and scooped her up into his arms, making growling noises as the girl laughed harder. No, not 'appeared', Tandy decided — grew was the more appropriate word. He was laughing, too, and completely decked out in a metallic red and silver suit. He reached up and pressed a button on his neck, letting the metal mask that covered his face spring back, revealing a grinning father.





	Double-Quick Terror Hiding Under An Anchor Line

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

_'But an ant on a teakwood deck_

_Moving faster than the boat_

_Running without grass camouflage_

_An ant, cut-off fingernail size, a speck_

_Leaped across the deck_

_Double-quick terror hiding under an anchor line.'_

_— Hy Sobiloff, An Ant without a Hill_

* * *

 

Screams echoed through the abandoned church as soon as Tandy set foot in it. Surprised, she dropped the shopping she'd gotten Tyrone; since becoming NOLA's Most Wanted, he'd not been able to do any of his own.

But the shopping wasn't the main problem. Her friend was in pain and she didn't know why. Tandy felt like her muscles were on fire as she scrambled for the inside door.

"Ty!" Tandy shouted as she ran into the main hall. _"Ty!"_

She winced and slammed her palms against her ears as she barged the door open with her side.

"It's not me," Tyrone said, cupping his own hands over his head. He was wearing the hoodie, having obviously come from a late night-early morning patrol.

She turned to face him, wanting to sprint over and check if he was alright. She restrained herself and settled for a quick walk instead, head tilted in an unasked question. The shouting was growing louder.

He gestured helplessly to the very back of the church. "It's him."

The screams grew louder as they drew closer. Behind one of the pews, knocked over by some force, was a cowering… something. Sure, it looked like a man — but it moved like the rest of its body was an after-image. Tandy felt that if she closed her eyes, the image of the thing would still be there. She gritted her teeth.

"We have to help him."

"We don't know anything about him!"

"And we won’t find out anything if he doesn't stop screaming." She outstretched a hand towards the convulsing thing's body, around where she thought his shoulder should be. Tyrone gave her a long look and did the same.

Together, they pressed their hands against the cold metal and screwed their eyes shut.

Tandy opened them to find herself in some sort of garden, like usual. What was unusual was that she was about the size of a blade of grass. The sole of Tyrone's foot stood next to her. She could see every fleck of dust, dirt and grime on his trainers.

"Eurgh," she muttered, and yelled up, "Either this guy's got a severe inferiority complex —"

"— or a massive superiority one," Tyrone finished, voice booming. "Hey, where are you?"

"I'm right next to you. Hold on," Tandy said, "I see a door."

She brushed off the dirt-covered handle. It looked sort of like an underground hatch, but it had to be tiny — it was around her size.

"Me too," said Tyrone. "But I'd bet that it isn't the one you're seeing."

Tandy started to turn the wheel of the hatch. She grunted as she finally got it open. "Okay," she huffed, wiping her hands on her jeans. "There's a ladder. I'm going to follow it down." She looked up to see Tyrone's truly colossal face nod.

He reached for the massive brass door handle in front of him and moved his foot, making Tandy cough as the dirt cloud entered her lungs. Then the door began to move outwards, the sweeping crush of the bottom of it flattening the grass. And started to reach dangerously near where Tandy was stood.

"Holy mother of —"

Tandy was knocked down the hatch, the door closing behind her with a clang. She screeched as she attempted to grab the rungs. Failing, she turned over in a fall that seemed to last for an age and windmilled her arms around as she attempted to slow herself down.

Suddenly, she hit the floor with a thud. Tandy groaned. A normal-sized hand stuck out in front of her. She grabbed it and let herself be hoisted up.

"Hey," said Tyrone, back to his usual size.

"Hey yourself." Tandy cleared her throat. "Uh — how did you get down here?"

He pointed backwards and smiled, confused. "Front door."

She looked behind them to see the brass door handle swinging in the wind.

"Huh, looks bigger from up there," she commented, and ignored Tyrone's strange look. "Where are we?"

"Someone's house, I think," he answered, and they began to trek together towards what Tandy guessed was the dining room. "It's nice."

"Do you think it's our mystery guy's?"

"I have no idea."

Just then, giggles echoed down from up the stairs. Tandy flattened herself against a nearby wooden wall next to the staircase. She dragged Tyrone along with her.

"Daddy!" A young girl's voice squealed, and small footsteps ran down the stairs. Tandy shivered as the girl's tulle ballerina tutu scratched against her face through the holes of the bannister.

She watched as the young girl practically jumped down the bottom of the stairs into the foyer below. A sharp buzzing noise ran past her ears and Tandy cringed. Then, something spectacular happened.

In the blink of an eye, a man appeared out of nowhere and scooped her up into his arms, making growling noises as the girl laughed harder. No, not 'appeared', Tandy decided — _grew_ was the more appropriate word. He was laughing, too, and completely decked out in a metallic red and silver suit. He reached up and pressed a button on his neck, letting the metal mask that covered his face spring back, revealing a grinning father.

He was in his early-to-late forties, brunette, and had a smile as big as his daughter's. The man carried the girl in his arms through an arch connecting the foyer to what she guessed was the living room. Tandy and Tyrone were left alone, pressed against the side of the staircase.

Tyrone turned his head to look at Tandy. "You reckon that's his hope? To spend time with his daughter?"

"It's a little too wholesome to be a fear," she commented. "But I don't know yet."

Absentmindedly, he relaxed and pushed himself off the wall. He grasped Tandy's hand as he did, pulling her off too. Tyrone tilted his head towards the direction the two went.

"Let's find out."

They walked through the arch into a room decorated with chairs, various knickknacks and scientific instruments, along with a desk that had seen better days. It looked comfortable. It, too, was connected open-plan style to a dining area, connected to a kitchen. Despite the room being so large, it seemed cosy. The walls were lined and littered with blueprints and children's drawings, askew shelves and ceiling-high bookcases covering every inch of the walls.

Around the dinner table was a group of people enjoying a meal together; dinner, Tandy observed. Sunday Roast. It was a large number made up of men and women of all ages and relationships to each other. There was a smirking brunette woman in a suit similar to the man they'd seen before, sat next to the person in question. She tapped at her phone as he flirted with her, body language suggestive. Every once in a while, she slapped the back of his head.

The girl, however, was sat in the lap of another woman (blonde) and was sneaking vegetables onto the plate of a kind of built guy (cop, she guessed) who was, in turn, deep in conversation with three men wearing business attire. Their jackets proclaimed them to be members of a company called _X-Con._ Tandy wondered if they knew what their company name sounded like.

There was another woman in a white suit sat next to an older man, seeming to observe the talk near her rather than join in. The older man was busying himself by marking what looked like school papers.

Near the head of the table was an older couple, hand in hand; they were oblivious to the conversation near them, the man reading the paper whilst the woman stirred her coffee and smiled at him whenever he looked up, squeezing his hand whenever he did so. Almost to remind him she was there. He smiled back every time she did.

Despite the conversation, as loud as it seemed to be, Tandy was unsettled. Their voices made no sound whatsoever. She would have thought she'd been deafened if it weren’t for Tyrone's breathing next to her. Tandy gripped his arm for support.

"Not just his daughter," she summarised. "His whole family."

Tyrone nodded, then froze. "Uh, Tandy?"

"Yeah?"

"That window over there. It's weird."

"Weird how?"

"Just look."

Instead of a street, or some woods, or anything normal, the outside of the house was a technicolour mess. Tandy swore as she walked past the dining table, locked in their conversations, and made her way over to the bay window next to it.

"What the hell _is_ that?"

It was kind of like looking into a massive kaleidoscope. Multicoloured rays of light made shapes and twisted in complete darkness. It was hypnotic. A hand grasped Tandy's shoulder and pulled her back as she leaned closer in. She glared at Tyrone and brushed off his hand.

"I have no idea," her friend shook his head, "but I don't think it's anything good."

"It's nothing good," came a low voice behind them. Tandy and Tyrone turned in tandem. The guy was now stood up, dinner forgotten. His family carried on talking, not noticing him breaking at all. He strode towards them, slapping his neck. His mask sprung back forwards, covering his frightened face.

Tandy's bones turned to ice as her and Tyrone moved out of his way. He pressed a gloved hand on the glass, leaning on it slightly. He looked back at his family, and then at the two alternately.

"You two might want to stand back," he warned, his voice shaking unmistakably. Then, with a hiss, he shrunk down to a miniature size and fell through the window feet first, shattering it into a million pieces.

The sound was harsh and high pitched and she resisted the urge to cup her ears again.

And with that shatter, Tyrone and Tandy rocketed back into the church, removing their hands.

The thing stopped convulsing and screaming, its after-image settling back into his body. It collapsed onto the floor, bone-tired and probably hoarse. With a start, Tandy realised it was the man from the vision they'd shared.

His suit was more complicated and seemed better made, but it was still unmistakably the same guy. He reached to his neck sluggishly and his helmet flitted back behind his neck. He gasped for air, and as if someone had flicked a switch, Tyrone sprung into action.

The other teenager ran to and flung open the confessional booth where they'd had hidden extra bedsheets and cushions. He teleported back with the objects and tried to put the mysterious man into the recovery position. But the man batted back his hands and, instead, collapsed onto the pillows supplied. Sweat lined his brow and he shuddered slightly as Tyrone backed away.

This was a man miles away from the one in the vision.

For an awkward moment, there was complete and utter silence ringing through the halls of the church. The pair just stood there, watching the man breathe labouredly.

After he had calmed down, it was Tyrone who spoke first.

"Who are you?" He asked.

The man grimaced as he smiled. There was a hint of charm and bravado still in it. "They call me Ant-Man," he answered. "Or Giant-Man," he allowed. "Depends on how big I am."

Tyrone rolled his eyes. "And _Ant-Man's_ actual name is…"

"Hey!" Ant-Man rebutted. "Maybe I was cursed with an awful name. Like Hank. Or Darren."

He was starting to get some colour back, Tandy noted.

"I hate that name too. It's kind of actually really lame. I was thinking something cool, like — _wow_ , you guys are a tough crowd, huh?" He winced and held his side as he sat up properly. "What did you guys do to me? Did you whammy me? I get whammied a lot. Like, nearly every time I try to be a superhero I get knocked out."

Tandy turned to Tyrone, who had resumed his spot on her left. "I think I liked him better when he was screaming."

" _Ears,"_ Ant-Man reminded them, causing Tandy to look back at him gesturing to his own. "Where are your parents? Am I in a church?"

"You're the one that randomly appeared here," Tyrone reminded him, crossing his arms.

Ant-Man's face scrunched together. He paused for a moment. "…What day is it?"

"The twelfth," Tandy supplied shortly. He made a _go-on_ gesture.

"Of March." Ant-Man repeated the signal. Tandy tilted her head.

" _2017?_ "

He paled for a second, but quickly covered it with a winning smile. "Only a few months off, at least. I'm getting closer."

"Closer to _what?"_ Tandy had had enough. She withdrew one of her Daggers, rolled the thin air that surrounded it and masked it from the naked eye and let it glint threateningly in its own light.

"Oh, that is so _cool_ ," Ant-Man gushed and sloppily waggled a finger at it, still tired. He turned his pointing to Tyrone. "And didn't you teleport? You guys are the superheroes _here_ , I’m guessing."

Tandy squinted at his unnecessary qualification, retracting her Dagger. (He obviously didn't grasp how dangerous it was, and so she let it disappear.) "Where _do_ you think you are?"

"Somewhere I'm not supposed to be," he answered promptly.

"New Orleans."

"Woo. That's a long way from — from where I want to be." Ant-Man stood up shakily and leant on the side of the pew that he'd knocked over.

"Dude, just tell us the truth. We're teenagers. We're not dumb."

Ant-Man sighed wearily and ran a glove-clad hand through his hair. "I didn’t think you were," he replied quietly. "I'm not from here — literally. Not this time, not this place."

"You're a time traveler."

"Yes?"

Tandy and Tyrone shared a long glance.

Tandy raised her eyebrows.

"Well, weirder things have happened," Tyrone offered. "How'd you, um —"

"Travel through time? Time vortexes, I think," he answered. "Han — my _mentor guy_ said I had to look out for them, but then we lost contact when I shrunk down enough to a molecular level. I was alone for a long time. Then I woke up — around five years ago now. Middle of the Battle of New York."

Tandy hummed in sympathy. "You must have been scared out of your mind."

"Still am, to be honest," Ant-Man said. He sat back down on the upturned pew. "I messed with my regulator, shrank back down again, and used some of the technology I had on hand to grow me back up. It had been two, three years after my last jump. I was in Sokovia during the Ultron attack."

"And so you did it again," Tyrone summarised, voice low. "And now you're here."

Ant-Man nodded and fished a small blue disk out of a small zip pocket on his side. " _This_ is my last growy-thing left," he said. "I'm hoping that it'll take me where I need to go."

 _Back to your family,_  Tandy finished in her head. _Back to your hope._

"Good luck," she wished him instead. "You recovered enough to go now, or do you want to later?"

Ant-Man swallowed. "Better to get it over with." He stood up, swaying slightly, and moved to the aisle between the pews. "And with a run up." He assumed a starting position, then tilted his head at them. "You two going to be okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." His helmet sprang back over his face. "Hey, if I do get back to my place, my time — what names do I look up in the Yellow Pages?"

 _"When,"_ Tandy stressed. "And you'll want to look us up under _C_. For Cloak —" she looked at Tyrone — "and Dagger."

Ant-Man's expression was completely covered, but Tandy guessed that he was smiling at least a little bit. He seemed to smile a lot. "Only if you look us up as well. _A_ , for Ant-Man and the Wasp."

 _And she thought their theme naming was bad._ "It's a deal. Good luck.

He waved at them and faced forward again, towards the doors of the church. Then, he began a short sprint, his boots clanking on the ground with every step he took. He hit his belt and began to shrink at a steady rate. Soon, he was completely gone.

Alone once more, Tandy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and listened as Tyrone did the same. Despite herself, she started to laugh.

"What?"

"Your frozen food's probably melted by now," she commented, and he snorted.

"It probably is," Tyrone replied around a laugh. "Let's get takeout instead."

"Sounds good, Ty. Sounds good."

**Author's Note:**

> So, guess what film I caught today! I loved it. And then came home and wrote this. Whoo boy. Title, as you can probably infer, is from _An Ant without a Hill_ by Hy Sobiloff.


End file.
